


It's The Little Things (That Kill)

by Not_You



Category: Watchmen (Comic), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Macro/Micro, Morse Code, Sounding, Trust, honey i shrunk the lunatic, hug the cock you love today, so much fucking trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rorschach is only about six inches high due to off-page circumstances and makes sweet sweet love to his partner anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's The Little Things (That Kill)

Walter slumps into the bathwater until only his nose and eyes are above it, sulking, and Dan sighs. "Rorschach, it was five on one, and you're six inches tall." Due to the aforementioned circumstance, the bath is a soup bowl on the kitchen counter. His skin is stark white against against the cheerful red glaze.

"I had it under control, Daniel." He mutters, chasing down the bit of soap that Dan carefully chipped off the bar for him.

"The tripwire was impressive, but come on! You could've been stepped on." He looks so miserable at the thought that Walter squirms guiltily. It only gets worse when Dan stares down at his hands. "And I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you."

He sighs, giving himself a last scrub to erase all traces of the greasy mud he had fallen in shortly before Dan had come through the skylight like the wrath of God. "It's been too long. I couldn't face another night inside while while they gnawed the bones of my city and daubed their filth over her walls."

Dan sighs, raising his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've been working on it, okay? But you're not even obeying the laws of physics, so it's tricky."

"Noticed the lack of conservation of mass. It's spooky. Where's the rest of me?"

He chuckles softly. "That's what I'm still trying to figure out."

Walter grabs the rim of the bowl and heaves himself up, stepping down on the first of three books Dan has made a little staircase out of, and throws himself down on the soft towel beside them. Trial and error has shown that the best method of drying Walter off is let him roll on a towel, since Dan doesn't have a hairdryer to blast him with. Since the strange blue ray hit him, he's been wearing Dan's handkerchiefs, tying them into togas and cloaks. He complains a lot, but the one thing he hasn't mentioned is how badly he wants pants again. He supposes he could get some, but they would probably be horrible polyester doll clothes, and anything is better than that. He sits up cross-legged and yawns. “Bed?”

Dan smiles. “Yeah.” He holds out his cupped hands, and Walter climbs into them. He curls up in a fetal ball, so that Dan can hold him in one palm and put the other over to keep him warm as he heads upstairs. He stares out through the gap between Dan’s thumb and his palm, and sighs. The sound is as tiny as the rest of him, but Dan has gotten good at listening for him. “We’ll work this out, sweetheart.” He murmurs, and Walter can’t help but melt a little at that. It has taken a long, long time to let Dan love him, and he’s glad he can trust him, now that he’s so debilitated. Learning to let someone be gentle with him, call him petnames, _care_ about him had been so hard, and Dan had been so patient that the memory makes Walter kiss the side of Dan’s thumb, since that’s the closest thing to his mouth. 

He supposes it must be barely perceptible, but Dan raises his hands to his heart and ducks his chin in the closest thing to a hug they can currently manage. “We’ll be all right.” He whispers, shutting the door and crawling into bed. He releases Walter, who curls up at the hollow of Dan’s throat. Dan warns him for the millionth time not to fall asleep there, and Walter assures him that he won’t. He knows Dan would kill himself if he rolled over Walter, which is why there’s a cigar box nailed to the headboard, comfortably made up with some cotton batting, a washcloth, miniature sheets cut from a worn out set, and Dan’s own old baby blanket.

He just likes being where he is. Feeling Dan’s pulse and the beat of his heart, rising and falling with his breath. It’s like resting his head on Dan’s chest, except that now he’s smaller than his own head. He tries not to think about brain size and body mass and all those other things that should make it impossible for him to think any more than a mouse. Instead he runs his dime-sized hands over Dan’s skin, the incipient beginnings of tomorrow’s stubble standing out in little hillocks. He supposes that this microscopic view of Dan should disgust him, but he has such an acute sense of the world’s scale, and is so aware of himself as the anomaly here that Dan is just Dan, magnified or not. And he smells the same anyway. Walter purrs, nuzzling him. One thing that’s nice about his current condition is that he can stretch out full length, every bit of his body touching Dan’s skin. At normal size he can rest on Dan like a blanket, limb to limb with Dan’s heartbeat loud and soothing in his ear, but the perfect comfort of the activity makes him distrust it, so he doesn’t do it very often. Now he can’t really help it, which makes it all right. He wriggles comfortably, and then there’s a small earthquake as Dan shivers.

“Sorry.” He whispers, the sound rumbling through Walter.

\--What’s wrong?—He taps Morse Code on Dan’s left clavicle, too relaxed to bother shouting.

“Nothing.”

He gets the feeling that Dan is blushing, and rubs slightly against him. They haven’t really ‘done anything’ as Dan would say, in his eternal high schooler parlance, since Walter’s ‘incident’. He’s half-hard already, and sighs. Part of the reason is that even though Walter usually considers himself beyond this sort of thing, it’s hard not to feel insecure with a cock that’s less than an inch long and only about as wide as a thick pencil lead. He knows Dan wants to touch him, but something about being so physically helpless makes it impossible to allow any other vulnerability. To make the pathetic sounds he can never quite stifle and to shake all over while actually naked and helpless in the palm of Dan’s hand is more than he can bear. He knows it’s not fair, and it’s that impulse that draws him to crawl down Dan’s chest to his nipple and roll the hard flesh under one palm. He has never told Dan this and probably never will, but they remind him of the only nice thing his mother ever had, a lovely porcelain teacup with a wild rose on the side. When a drunk client stumbled into the cupboard and broke it, Walter had cried, and after his mother had given him a few hard slaps to shut him up and then lost interest, he had climbed up onto the table and peered into the darkness to find a large piece from the side, about one inch by two. He still has it.

“Rorschach.” Dan murmurs in soft, wondering tones, one fingertip gently, /gently/ stroking Walter’s back like a small and beloved animal, which he supposes he is. He arches up into the touch, and works Dan with hands and mouth, fascinated by the strangeness of it. Dan whimpers softly, trembling again. Walter can tell he’s doing his best not to, and purrs again, covering the hard nub in tiny, hard bites, moaning when Dan curses softly, breathless and amazed. “God, that feels—“

\--Good?— His tiny hands patter on Dan’s chest.

Dan chuckles quietly, another small earthquake. “Very.”

He purrs and licks the tender skin, then crawls to repeat his performance on the other side. Dan gently pinches the nub he has just abandoned, working it along with Walter’s hands on his skin. Walter flushes, watching. He envies Dan a little for the hedonistic ease with which he touches himself, and loves to watch him. Driven by his merciless sense of fairness, Walter has returned the favor, but can’t bring himself to do it without his mask, which Dan doesn’t seem to mind. Just as right now, he doesn’t seem to mind his skittering mouse of a lover as Walter makes his way down to Dan’s cock. Uncertainty and insecurity sweep over him again, since it’s as tall as he is, now. But it’s still Dan, and he clearly hasn’t given enough thought to just how soft and silky it is and just what the implications of that are when he’s small enough to feel it on his entire body. He groans, hugging Dan’s cock and rocking his hips against it, determined not to think about what this looks like or anything else but how it feels.

Dan groans, and Walter watches a perfect bead of pre-come form. He touches it lightly, breaking the surface tension and covering his forearm in warm slickness. He slides his hand gently into the slit, and Dan whines sharply, banging the headboard because he doesn’t dare buck his hips but has to move /something/. The banging acquires a steady rhythm in time to Dan’s breathless cursing as Walter sinks in up to the elbow. It’s so tight and fragile and strange that he doubts that he would ever be able to describe the feeling. Since Dan seems to be enjoying himself, he starts a slow, back and forth movement, gently fucking him there, in the strangest possible place. His free hand goes to press that spot just under the head that makes Dan yelp and groan, and it works as well as it usually does.

“F-fuck, Rorschach!” He whimpers, and to Walter the involuntary movement of his hips is less like an earthquake and more like being on a boat and feeling the waves roll beneath him. He barely has time to worry about what’s going to happen when Dan comes when he does. Rorschach slides his hand out because he’s sure it’ll hurt if he doesn’t, and rocks against Dan’s pulsing cock, bringing himself off so effortlessly that he cries out as much in surprise as pleasure, slumping exhausted and sticky into the hollow of Dan’s hipbone. He feels good enough to not mind being covered in semen for about five seconds.

\--Ick—

“Hey, it’s not like you didn’t know that would happen!” Dan laughs breathlessly. “Hang on.”

It takes Dan about a minute and a half to regain sufficient muscle control to scoop Walter up and stand on shaky legs, kissing the top of his head and his upper back, and cradling him to his heart. He staggers to the bathroom and bathes Walter in the sink. This time he’s too tired to think about dignity in the face of minuteness and just relaxes, enjoying the warm water and Dan’s huge, loving hands.


End file.
